


Fly Your Flag

by gamicgallimaufry



Series: Fly Your Flag [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Queer Themes, Slow Burn, all characters are queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamicgallimaufry/pseuds/gamicgallimaufry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a new bit of probable-fluff starting with a meet-cute between Steve and Peggy after the NYC Pride parade.</p>
<p>It's set in modern times with characters from Agent Carter as Peggy's friends and characters from the Avengers as Steve's. Bucky will come in and play a part in a poly relationship, so if you're not into that you might not want to get emotionally invested in the story now.<br/>I kind of want to show the characters being fairly similar to canon but all in modern times without the superhero stuff, and more exploring being young and queer. I promise it'll be cute!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the first chapter! It's more of a short intro. It's been a while since I wrote anything and I'd really love to hear what you think. Also if anyone has any recs for tags to use, hit me up - I'm so awful at tagging!  
> I'll be updating tags etc as I write more since I don't want to spoil things for anyone who starts reading now :)
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter: alcohol/bar setting.

“Hun, I’m really going to have to go, I’m opening tomorrow at the diner. Do you wanna stick around?” Angie was making moves to gather her things, putting her phone and purse into her bag.

 

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay a while longer, see if there’s any talent! I’ll maybe swing by tomorrow for brunch? If I’m not feeling too sorry for myself, that is.” Peggy took another sip of her gin and tonic, realising that it was almost empty. She had no responsibilities for a few days so she was planning on making some bad decisions. “Hey, Howie, are you going home too? Or do you want another?”

 

Howard took his last swig of whiskey and then stood up to let Angie out from the booth, “I’ll probably head call it a night now too—“ He paused, looked past Peggy and smirked, “but I might have just spotted your ‘talent’.”

 

Peggy tilted her head at him, confused and seeking explanation, as he put his arm around Angie who was now giggling away. “Howie, what are you on about — oh _fuck_.” Howard had nodded at her to look behind her and her jaw practically hit the floor. At the bar, by himself and gazing into the distance, there was a big, buff man with the bi flag painted on his cheek, and he was _gorgeous_. She looked back at her friends, wide-eyed and blushing while they just laughed.

 

“Have fun, English, give us the gossip tomorrow and don’t forget to play safe”, Howie gave her a wink, and with that Angie was leading him out the door, both of their rainbow flag-capes trailing behind them.

 

Peggy was a bit flustered, she had enough liquid courage but that usually also meant she got giggly and excitable, not necessarily the best representation of her sober self, and her sober self would have probably gotten giggly and excitable over that _specimen_ anyway, so goodness knows how she’d hold it together. She downed the remainder of her drink and stood, adjusting the flag that was tied into the belt loops of her denim shorts to create a makeshift skirt, and looking in the mirror behind the bench that Angie and Howard had been on to make sure her lipstick and hair were good. Grabbing her bag, she decided to go over before she wimped out.

 

“So, good Pride, right?” Topical talking points were good, right? She felt that it was probably a better conversation starter than most things. Showing common experience and all that. She was probably overthinking it.

 

He started a little, shaken out of his daydream and he glanced at her then did a double take when he seemed to realise that she had actually spoken to her. “Sorry, what was that?”

 

A little ball of worry started to form in her chest and her initial bravado suddenly disappeared, “oh, I just said that it was a good Pride this year - the weather was better than last year and I thought some of the floats were really great” she stopped abruptly, she was beginning to ramble. 

 

“Oh! It was my first year, but it was really good fun, I liked it a lot.” He looked her up and down in a pretty obvious way, smiling at her flag-skirt, the smile growing to a grin at her shirt, “Nice shirt there, you make it yourself?”

 

Peggy looked down, a bit unnecessary since she knew exactly which t-shirt she was wearing. She nodded, she’d drawn the words “bitch starts with ‘bi’” onto her t-shirt after drinking a little bit too much at her first Pride back in London. “Yeah, I only had a small pin at my first Pride and I felt it wasn’t enough. Wait ’til you’re a few years in, you’ll be bedecked in blue, purple and pink too, like you lot get on the 4th of July but with an alternate colour scheme.” The hot guy had started laughing but stopped and gave her a weird look by the end, one she wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Oh, I didn’t mean it’s bad or anything, I know how Americans can get about people insulting their patriotism, but heck, look at me right now, I obviously don’t think flag-wearing is bad!” Rambling again, trying desperately to make sure she hadn’t insulted him because fuck, his eyes were stunning.

 

Finally he cracked a smile again and shook his head, “No, no, it’s just that’s my birthday! The fourth of July, I mean. Sometimes I get a bit weirded out when people refer to it specifically and it takes me a little while to remember it’s a “thing”. Especially when I’ve been drinking.” Peggy let out a sigh of relief, she hadn’t blown things - yet. “So you’re from England, right? I went there on holiday a couple of years ago. Anywhere I might have been to?”

 

“Oh, just London. I feel so stereotypical when I tell people, but I guess it’s nice that people here know where it is. I have Scottish friends who came over to visit and had people thinking they were Irish the whole time.” The hot guy looked a bit apologetic, and certainly didn’t seem to find it as funny as she did - maybe he thought she was making fun of Americans or something? “Anyway, hey, since its your first year, you won’t have tried their Pride specials, right?” The look of confusion on his face got her excited again, “They’ve got this one called the Bisexual Biannual Bispecial, they serve it exactly six months after the last Pride just to make the name work! It’s blue curaçao, blackberry brandy and… what’s the pink again? Oh! Raspberry schnapps, all layered to look like the flag and by god is it good. Heh, _bi_ god.” Rambling yet again, but at least this time it was good rambling and the hot guy was grinning again so maybe she was doing something right?

 

He turned and gestured to the bartender, “hey, can we get two of those bisexual bi-whatevers over here? For two bisexual bi-whatevers, I guess”. The bartender gave him an obviously forced smile to acknowledge the joke, and nodded. The hot guy turned back to Peggy, “So, what’s your name?”

 

She was not dealing too well with how absolutely drop-dead adorable-hot-cute he was with all the bi jokes and asking questions. “Umm, Margaret. But I go by Peggy. Actually I hate being called Margaret so forget I said that. I’m Peggy.” She stopped, took a deep breath to try to stop herself from blushing from all the rambling. “And yours?”  
  
He was laughing at her, she hoped he wasn’t laughing at how weird she was being. “It’s really nice to meet you, Peggy. I’m Steven but I go by Steve.”


	2. Carry Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy doesn't get to make the bad decision she had hoped for and Steve is a forgetful sweetheart.

“So, are you coming home with me or what?” Peggy fluttered her eyelashes at Steve as she asked, then took a slow slurp of her cocktail through the straw, holding his eye contact the whole time. She wasn’t going to risk letting this one slip away just because he didn’t get a hint, so she wanted to be sure it was as obvious as possible. He had the good nature to blush at least, and she could have sworn his pupils dilated for a second, but that might have just been her wishful thinking.

 

Steve cleared his throat and looked away, almost like he was looking anywhere other than her eyes… or mouth. “I, umm, I’d like to walk you home. But that’s it-“ Peggy’s smirk dropped and her eyebrows furrowed a little, “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I’d like to… just maybe when we’re sober? We’ve both had maybe a few too many and I just wouldn’t feel comfortable. I’d like to make sure you get home safe, and we can swap numbers and everything!” He felt like he was trying to make up for not wanting to go home with her in the way she wanted, but that seemed wrong, so he stopped trying to compensate. He should at least give her a chance to respond, he supposed.

 

Peggy was silent, still a small crease between her brows, and she lifted her drink for another — a last — slurp as she narrowed her eyes in scrutiny. Steve shifted awkwardly, not sure if she was about to get angry or leave or whatever else, she didn’t look particularly happy but she didn’t look hugely unhappy either. In fact, she wasn’t really sure how she felt, she was a bit disappointed, sure, but also slightly impressed and now that she’d considered how many drinks she’d had, she found herself agreeing with him. After what seemed like an eternity to Steve, she stopped pursing her red lips and smiled, “Yeah, okay. I live a bit of a walk away, though?” Her tone rose at the end, questioning that he was fine with the distance and giving him an ‘out’ if he wanted one. He didn’t.

 

“Sure, I’ll walk there with you and if it’s in the wrong direction I can just get a cab or whatever.” He swung his legs round and stood down from the bar-stool, then offered a hand to the brunette. She laughed at first, then let out a quiet “oh” as she put her feet down and swayed towards him, his hand catching her elbow to steady her. “Hey, steady there, are you okay? Do you need a minute? Here, don’t worry, I’ve got your bag.” Sure enough he was holding it in his other hand, and didn’t seem to be forcing it back onto her.

 

Her head was still spinning but Peggy held onto his arm — though she thought maybe the muscles were contributing to the head-spinning — and started to walk towards the door. She didn’t trust herself to speak because the drink hitting her, plus clinging onto a gorgeous guy, inevitably meant she would say something awfully embarrassing, but she didn’t seem to need to since Steve was comfortably following her lead and didn’t seem to mind her using his arm as a stabiliser.

 

They walked in silence, though not an uncomfortable one, with the only break being when Peggy almost tripped on a curb and Steve responded quickly by catching her around her waist and they made eye contact then giggled a little. He kept his hand on her back this time, ready to hold onto her if she took another stumble and allowing her to lean against him as they walked.

 

Her leaning allowed her to steer him along the familiar route home, until she stopped abruptly in front of a tall townhouse, almost causing _him_ to trip this time. “This is me. I mean, this is my house. Well, part of it is, not all of it.” See, there goes that rambling again. She blushed, looking at her feet and kicking the ground with her toes. She heard a warm chuckle and looked up to see his eyes all crinkled from smiling as he held her purse out.

 

“Are you okay to get in? You don’t need any help with the keys or anything?” She shook her head stubbornly. “Okay, okay! Well then, it was really nice to meet you Peggy. Really nice.” He gave her a chance to say something, looking expectantly at her, but she was just smiling up at him so he continued, “I hope you sleep well, uh… goodnight?” He wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but he decided to offer a hug, which she accepted so enthusiastically that he thought she might fall if he let her go, so he had to be gentle in pulling away from it. Not that he wanted to particularly; she was soft and warm, but also very very drunk, and apparently significantly less talkative than earlier. He stepped backward then leant down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, before turning and going back the way they’d came, not wanting to draw it out any longer.

It took him all of about two minutes to realise he’d forgotten to take her phone number and she didn’t have his. He debated what to do for a moment, then turned on his heel and ran back, knocking the door that they’d stopped outside. There was no answer. None at all for the ten minutes he stood there knocking and calling for her — quietly so as not to disturb her neighbours, but surely loud enough for her to hear? He checked his pockets to see if he had paper and a pen, or anything that he could put through the letterbox to let her know where to find him, but there was nothing useful. He made a sound almost like a growl as he balled his fists and stalked off, furious with himself for being so silly, but he couldn’t see what else he could do.


End file.
